


I'm Not Broken (There's Just a Piece Missing)

by poetsandzombies



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fake Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:05:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetsandzombies/pseuds/poetsandzombies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is shocked by the news of Tony Stark's death. Even more shocked to find him hiding out in his apartment, needing help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> edited 5-22-14 for consistency errors

It was Christmas day when Steve Rogers received the news. He listened to the voice message three times before hearing what was being told, and four times before he believed it.

 

“I thought it’d be better you hear it from me, rather than on the news tomorrow. I’m sorry.” 

_I’m sorry…_

Steve stood by the answering machine for a long time, the man’s words weighing heavily on his chest. He took a deep breath, fingers tightening around the edge of the kitchen counter. The muscles in his back and shoulder blades tensed and knotted harshly at his grip, but he appeared otherwise calm. 

Hours seemed to pass before anyone came to speak to him. A hand rested on his shoulder, gentle but firm. He exhaled deeply, the touch somehow reminding him to breathe. 

 “I’m sorry.”

Steve held back a disbelieving laugh, but smiled sourly.  _I’m sorry._  He turned around to face Natasha, arms folded, leaning against the counter.

“I hadn’t talked to the man in three years.” He swallowed hard. _Had it really been that long?_  He tried to think, but no information was sinking in. He only felt confused.

“You gonna be okay?” Natasha asked, concern tight in her pursed lips.

Steve looked at her a few moments with a clenched jaw. She held his gaze with challenging patience while he shook his head in thought. His nostrils flared as the question repeated dully in his head, still not processing it. Finally he just shrugged, muscles slumped in defeat. 

“I don’t know.” Steve threw his arms up, at a loss. He raked a hand through his hair and pushed past Natasha, out of the kitchen.

* * *

Steve was numb. He sat down on the edge of his bed as his eyes shifted in and out of focus, a soft hum in his ears.  _I’m sorry_ …

Three years ago Tony Stark left the Avengers Initiative. The attacks were piling up, S.H.I.E.L.D was on constant watch, and the avengers were always needed. But it was evident that he and Steve could not cooperate with each other on a tolerant level. Their arguments were time wasting and pointless, and it was causing the group to fall apart. Seeing as Steve was the leader of the group, Tony volunteered to [step](908155) out. It was a quiet, consented leave that everyone understood, but nobody wanted to have happen.

Steve closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. _It had been so long since then_. Three whole years of watching Tony through the paparazzi and newscasts, in pictures and behind [podiums](908155) as he fell and rose out of his problems with one little order and a sarcastic smirk.

And now Rhodey was telling him he was dead at the bottom of the ocean.  

* * *

_Did you hear? Did you hear?_  

Whispers circled him day after day. He grew weary of the strangers in the streets, imagined eyes glued to him as if somehow they knew who he was, or how he felt. He'd lost count of the number of times he was asked if "he heard," if he had heard what happened. Coworkers acted as if the most horrible thing had hurt them all, when they had no idea how many times Steve had watched them pull the iron suit out of the ocean, the tragic death of the great Tony Stark settling only on himself. 

 

So he ran a tighter schedule than usual: Morning jog, work, gym, bed. He focused on his breathing and kept tabs on his heart rate while he worked out. He followed costumers around the book store, double triple checking to make sure not only that they were finding everything they needed, but that they were having a wonderful evening as well. Anything to make sure he had no time to himself or his thoughts.

But these apologies were driving him to the ground, ringing in his head as a constant reminder of the loss he had no idea he would take so hard. 

Phil Coulson called on the third day, and that's when he decided it was time to leave. 

Coulson asked if the "incident" would effect his work with s.h.i.e.l.d if they were called off break. Steve had thrown his hands up in exasperation, but told Phil calmly that no, it would not. He was fine.

* * * 

Steve stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a duffel bag full of button downs and khakis slugged over his shoulder, his shield in his free hand. It hadn't taken him more than a half hour to pack; he had little to his name in this century. Anything of any personal value to him was in the past now. Literally.

"You're leaving." Natasha noted, not looking up from the water she was pouring into a glass.

Steve was a special circumstance for Shield. When he woke up in the 21st century, he had nothing, he had to start from scratch. Of course, they had offered to fix him up with an apartment, but for a while there, the Avengers had all been living in Stark tower, and after that Shield had Steve traveling too much to actually get the chance to settle down.

A couple months ago, when all the villainy seemed to die down, the members of the Avengers were given what Fury called an indefinite leave (the world was in no foreseen danger anytime soon. "Get a job, live your life." Even though Shield was Steve's job _and_ his life.), so Steve took up Fury's offer on an apartment, but in the meantime he could stay with Natasha. The apartment had been ready a while ago; he hadn't been.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome." He responded. She set down the pitcher and put a hand on his shoulder, lips curling into a half smile.

"You're always welcome." 

And that was that. Natasha wasn't one to poke into or even care about anyone's business.  If you had to leave, then you had to leave. No explanations needed.

* * *

It was an hour and a half ride from Natasha's to Steve's by subway. He had bought two books from his work shortly before he left, one of which he realized quickly that he didn't relate to at all.  It was about vampires and werewolves, a romance that Steve should have realized he wasn't going to care for based off the girl who recommended it to him. The other, All Quiet on the Western Front, related to him a little too much. After a few minutes he set it down, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

He listened to music the rest of the way, until the train stopped and he got off, checked the map on his phone, and headed towards his apartment. 

The lights were off when he finally managed to get the front door open, which he'd expected. What he didn't expect was the three mugs rimmed with stale coffee. Steve eyed the sticky mess wearily, but scooped up the mugs and found his way to the kitchen, where he set them in the sink with a shrug. Maybe some of the shield contractors had left them after they had finished the apartment. That wasn't a big deal to him, especially considering how nice of a job they'd done.

He ran a finger along the smooth marble countertop, making a face of approval as he looked around the rest of the apartment, shuffling into the living room. It was small enough for comfort, but still a little too big for his liking. He wasn't sure what use he'd make of so much space, or why he'd ever need a tv screen larger than his eyes could take in. But still, it was nice.

He was half way through the bookshelf that had been set by his bed when he started to hear the sound of a pencil scratching frantically on paper. He froze cautiously, tuning into the sound to also hear faint breathing, and a heartbeat other than his own in a room nearby. 

He followed the soft thuds out of his room, into the hallway, and back into a different room.

His eyes widened at the sight, he lost his balance and stumbled back, crashing into shelves of paper and folders. It took him a moment of staring to register what was so shocking about the ghost of a man sitting at the desk in front of him, who then met his eyes with a bit of alarm.

Steve straightened himself up, took a big calming breath, and blinked once. Twice. 

Nope, still there.

"What the hell?" He finally managed to get out.

"It's best you didn't yell and draw attention, people think I'm dead, you know." Were the first words Steve heard out of Tony Stark's mouth after three years.

* * *

Steve pressed his hip into the corner of the kitchen counter while he spread peanut butter on piece of bread. A tenseness hung heavily in the air, chilled in Tony's nervous shifting, in Steve's clenched jaw. 

It had taken a good hour of staring at the man, the dark shadows rimming his eyes to the dull flickering glow of his arc reactor before he really registered that it was Tony he was looking at, another 10 minutes for him to realize that he was in his apartment, alive and well (for the most part), and not buried in some ocean grave. Now he just had a couple million questions burning in his throat.

"PBJ?" Tony commented from across the counter.

"Yup." Steve said stiffly.

"Comfort food." 

He looked up from his sandwich.

"Sorry?"

"Comfort food. You know, it's a childhood memory. People eat it to feel safe, comforted." Tony said.

"Or because its good." Steve responded dryly, raising his eyebrows at Tony as he bit into the sandwich. "So you want to tell me why you're not at the bottom of the ocean?" He managed over a mouthful of food.

"Not that hard to fake your own death, Cap. Figured if you could do it, so could I."

"I didn't-"

"Yeah whatever." Tony interjected, holding a hand up. Steve clamped his mouth shut, gritting his teeth. He couldn't help the possible threat of tears sting his eyes as he swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke slowly, angrily.

"I watched them pull your suit out of the ocean." 

"Slapped some blood on it, banged it up, tossed it. I was confirmed dead in less than 24 hours, it was that simple. People are idiots. Why are you so upset, by the way? Of all people."

Steve didn't answer. He couldn't tell the man that honestly, he felt betrayed. He couldn't pinpoint why, and he knew it wasn't fair for him to feel this way when Pepper and Rhodey thought they had lost someone they were really close to.

But as he looked Tony down, at the way he rocked back on his heels, how comfortably and confident he looked in himself, Steve realized that he thought _he'd_ lost something too. An opportunity to forgive and to apologize. A second chance. He was probably the last person to cross Tony's mind when he decided to fake his own death, but he still couldn't help but feel like it was a personal attack. He couldn't help but think "how could you?"

But he bottled it up, shoving past Tony as he headed towards the living room.

"How'd you know to come here?" He threw back over his shoulder.

" Fury likes to keep tabs on me, the nosy bastard, so I'm in constant contact with SHIELD. Knew you had an unoccupied apartment,  figured 'why not?'" 

"Didn't expect me to actually move in?"

"No, I counted on it."

Steve stopped, brows furrowing in confusion, but before he could ask, Tony had made his way around to face him. 

"Look, I know we didn't exactly leave off on a fantastic note-"

"You left the team when we needed you the most." He knew he should have let him finish as soon as he interrupted. Their argument was spiraling in a different direction, and Steve could tell he wasn't going to get the answers that he needed.

"I had no choice!"

"You know very well that-"

"Listen." Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his note. Steve crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows to continue. He spoke softly.

"Steve, we were falling apart. We couldn't agree on anything anymore, and the team needed you more than they needed me. And so I walked. I did what I knew in my heart was right. If you can't see that... I really don't know what to tell you."

But Steve didn't want to hear it. He could feel himself swaying dizzily where he stood, the days travels and the reemergence of an old team mate had drained him. It frustrated him that he couldn't look at Tony and feel any sort of relief that the man was, in fact, alive, and despite all realizations that his death had made him aware of, he still couldn't hold a conversation with the man without starting an argument.

What he needed to do was sleep off his shock. 

"I'm going to bed." He said without warning. 

"What?" Tony's brows furrowed in confusion. "But you-"

"We'll talk in the morning. You can sleep on the couch." Steve rubbed his eyes as if to prove his sleepiness, and without another word headed to his room.

There was, admittedly, a pinch of stubbornness that prompted him to cut the conversation short. A part of him knew that Tony was right, that he had been doing what was in the team's best interests. He just, childishly, didn't want to admit it.

Besides, that wasn't at all what they needed to talk about.

There was no window in his room to let him know how dark it had gotten, if it had gotten dark at all. Steve laid back on his bed, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. Heart palpitations throbbed through his chest, and he wondered how long it had been since he last had those. Listening to the uncomfortable shifting of skin on leather outside his room somehow settled his nerves. Eventually, muscles relaxed, eyelids drooped, minds started to drift. It was a long time before Steve allowed himself to think it. 

That the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Tony Stark was alive. 

The smallest of smiles curled lightly on Steve's face before he nodded off completely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This was not meant to be based off of Iron Man 3. I started this before I watched that movie, and Tony Stark faking his death had been a coincidence, so I'm doing the best I can on working around that.
> 
> 2\. Accuracy is not my best skill, I really apologize.

Steve woke up no less exhausted than the night before. He hunched over in his bed, rubbing his temples in an attempt to make his headache subside. Looking up, he nearly jumped at the sight of the silhouette standing in the doorway of his room. It took a few seconds for his heart beat to get back on track, for his breathing to smoothen out.

He had thought that perhaps Tony had been some sort of dream, a strange delusion. But here he stood, leaning heavily against the door, arms crossed. 

"Can you look at something? I was going to just let it fester, but since your here..." He trailed off. Steve wasn't expecting the next conversation with Tony to go like this, nor was he expecting it the second he woke up. But he pushed that thought aside, nodding reluctantly as he swung his legs off the bed.

He followed Tony out of his room and into the kitchen. It was dark, quiet except for the soft pad of their feet against the hardwood floor, and the click of Tony turning on the lights. Steve grimaced, letting his eyes adjust to the light before looking a Tony expectantly. Tony didn't hesitate to begin pulling his shirt off, to which Steve's eyes widen slightly in surprise. He opened his mouth, about ask what he was doing when Tony turned around, revealing a gash between his shoulder blade and spine. The wound was red, blood crusted, the flesh around it swelling a little. There was also some green, sticky fluids along the cut in shades that made Steve grit his teeth, wondering if it was infected. The cut had been reopened, Tony must have snagged it recently, fresh blood trailing down his back. Steve reached out a hand instinctively, but pulled back, unsure.

"What..?"

"I got jabbed with a strip of my armor when I was tossing it in the ocean. My hands were kind of tied, I couldn't really see how bad it was. I poured some alcohol over it a couple times, but couldn't treat it properly. Could you just-?"

"Yeah, sure." Steve breathed, beginning to raid his kitchen for ointments and bandages.

"Thanks." Tony said. He was sitting in a chair, back towards Steve when he finally turned back to him, supplies in hand. 

His skin was warm beneath Steve's fingertips. The man cringed away at the first dab of peroxide soaked cotton, head twitching to the side.

"Ah.." He let out. Steve continued dabbing around the wound, but unintentionally started running the fingers of his other hand along his spine in an unconscious attempt to soothe Tony. It was quiet for another few minutes while he worked carefully and Tony focused on staying still, until he summoned up the courage to continue yesterday's conversation.

"I need answers, Tony." He said. There was a pause, and then a long, emphasized sigh from Tony.

"I know."

"I'm the last person you should have come to."

"Which is why you were the first. Oww."

"Sorry." Steve lightened his hand.

"Look," Tony said. "I can't go to Pepper with this, I can't go to Rhodey. They know I'm having a hard time, but I don't think they get how bad."

"How bad is it?" Steve muttered over the medical tape he was tearing with his mouth.

"I may also be hiding from someone."

Something stirred in Steve's stomach as he took a moment to process what was just said, a question that unfurled sickeningly in his mind. Who did Tony Stark hide from?

"I was trying to keep as many people out of danger while I figured out a plan. Of course, I thought I'd have it figured out by now, I just-"

"Tony." Steve interrupted in a low voice, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Who are you so afraid of?"


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

Steve was pacing, trying to sort out his thoughts, trying to form words. Tony sat at the kitchen table facing him, watching him with fidgeting fingers.

"Shouldn't you... Couldn't you have gone to Director Fury with this? Someone bigger, more powerful, they would know what to do. But to fake your own death, Tony, for gods sake-"

"I had no other choice! I threatened a  _really_  dangerous man. And now he's after me and the very few things I care about. I had to disappear, and I have to get him while he still thinks I'm not an obstacle in his way. " 

It made sense. Steve bit his lip, slowing his pace to a halt, still not ready to let go of his idea.

He'd done this before, Tony had. A few years back. It was scary how similar the situations were, only before he had not intentionally disposed of himself.

Still, Steve wondered how someone could get themselves caught in such a specific situation twice.

"I'm not saying I like Fury any more than you do, but I've been working with him for a few years, and if you would just trust him-"

"I trust _you_ ,Steve."

"-we could- What?" The room grew quiet and Tony sighed, his knuckles whitening in a fist as he gathered strength to say whatever it was he was about to say.

"The fighting all those years ago. Everything that was said..." He started, sounding unsure. He seemed to struggle, swallowing hard. "Well, what's done is done, and I'll never forgive myself for it. I've got a lot of making up to."

It sounded like an apology, and Steve froze, stunned. Perhaps Tony had forgotten that hate had been spewing from both sides.

And well, Steve had forgotten some things too. He had forgotten how bad it could be. They weren't event arguing at the moment, but a heat had started unfurling in his stomach. Steve could feel all of his muscles tensed, his fists clenching and unclenching. This was often what it was like to be around Tony. 

But on the field, none of it mattered. They clicked. Better than most shield partners did, quite frankly, and Clint Barton always suggested that if they had been born in the same time period...

 And Steve always thought that if they could just find _some_ _way_ to click instead of clash outside the field...

"You could've just called." Steve finally said. 

"If just anyone could find your number, you'd be in a bit of trouble." Tony laughs.

"Well, you're not just anyone, are you? You're Tony Stark."

"Glad you noticed. So, what's the plan? Are you kicking me out?"

"No." He didn't have to think about it long.

He'd had experience with power hungry villains.

"I'm going to help you."

* * * 

They both spent the morning hovered over a print of what Tony was pretty sure was the layout of the man's hideout, mapping out a plan.

"Alright," Steve let out finally, sitting back in his chair and stretching. "Now we just need a date." 

"Er..." Tony let out absentmindedly, "We won't have a date." He said. Steve tried to keep his mouth from dropping.

"What?"  

 "There's like a 30% chance this guy's gonna be where we need him to be if we just randomly attack, but I need to be 100% sure of this. I need to nail him first try, or that's it; I lose everything. He gives the city a heads up before he does anything, and that's when I know he'll be right here." Tony points to the map he created. "It'll be short notice. We'll have a couple hours tops, but at least we'll be prepared and at least we'll be sure. "

Steve mulled that over for a minute.

"So, what? We just dick around until he issues another threat?" He asks finally.

"Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Coming from the guy who threatened someone very capable of destroying and then ruling an entire country. Right, well, if that's settled..." Steve huffed, getting up from the table and walking over to the front door, grabbing the jacket he had tossed to the floor the night before and pulling it on.

"Where are you going?" Tony asked. He watched him as he pulled a scarf around his neck and tucked it inside the front of the jacket, mouth pouting.

"Out?" Steve said pointedly. "I've got to run to the bank, go grocery shopping, basically move in to this apartment." He shrugged, looking around. Really, he had all that he needed here to live for the next few months, but it just felt odd that it wasn't because of his own doing. 

"I'll come with you." 

"Yeah, that's not a smart idea-" Steve started, but Tony was already in another room, probably looking for a jacket.

"Just trust me." He called over his shoulder.

***

"This is really shady, Tony." Steve said.

Next to him, Tony walked with his head bowed, hat on, hood pulled up, and sunglasses covering a good half of his face. Steve had been adamant about him not being seen, but he also didn't want want people to suspect Steve was walking with an fbi's most wanted criminal either. 

"It'll be fine, don't worry." Tony assured him again, for the tenth time that day.

 

The air was cold as ever, freezing the two men's noses, their cheeks flushed pink. It was a short drive to the bank, but the line trailed all the way outside, where people of all ages and sizes and social classes stood cramped together, same bored expressions on their faces, same impatient sway on their bodies and long, withdrawn sighs every few minutes. Steve couldn't ever tell whether he found doing such ordinary tasks refreshing or annoying. Either way, he was relieved that this wasn't his everyday life, and glad he had Tony there to keep his mind busy.

 

And to insist that he pay for three hundred dollars worth of groceries in cash to earn his stay. Steve refused, of course, but Tony had slipped the money into the self check-out when Steve turned around to put the last few items into bags. 

"Lunch?" Tony offered as they pulled out of the parking lot, and Steve shot him a funny look.

"We can eat at home." 

"I've eaten at your home for the past three days, which is a damn shame considering my cooking skills. Just pull in right over there." He pointed to a sign advertising some unknown Italian restaurant. Steve sighed, but didn't argue, pulling into the parking lot as asked. 

 

The restaurant was nice, dimly lit, not too crowded. Tony leaned into Steve's shoulder and asked politely for a more private area of the room when Steve had coughed uncomfortably and told him that it would be nice if they could catch up, but he'd like to be able to actually see him. The waiter looked Tony's outfit over suspiciously, but nodded, waving them over to the back of the restaurant, where there was a table closed off from the rest. When the waiter finally took their drink orders and left the room, it felt like the first time Steve could breathe since he left Natasha's. He inhaled deeply and sat back, muscles relaxing. Tony took off his hat and glasses and looked at Steve with a grin.

"Hi." He said.

"Hi." Steve managed after a moment. 

"So... three years, yeah?" All Steve could do was nod, and Tony mouthed a silent 'wow' "I'm not sure if I would have survived another three years with Fury, but you're still working for shield, huh?" It didn't come off as insulting, but Steve still felt the need to defend himself.

"I have a moral obligation to help people, it's what I was built to do. This is still the best way I know how." It wasn't about Fury, and it wasn't about shield,both of which had, in the most neutral way possible, taken Steve's side when he and Tony's fighting had hit the roof. It was about the people, and Steve needed Tony to know that. 

"I know." Tony said quietly, as if to read his mind. Steve looked up from his plate in surprise, to see Tony smiling at him. He couldn't remember the last time he saw a smile from Tony, even before he left the Avengers. There was something so brilliant, so genuine about it, that Steve had to look away, attempting to hide a smile of his own. 

"Rhodey once mentioned to me a new charity organization you started?" Steve said, taking the attention away from himself. Tony ran a hand messily through his hair.

"Ah, well it's more of an extension to the Maria Stark foundation, but yeah. It grew pretty rapidly within a few short months. I suppose Pepper's looking over it as of late, but yeah. It remains to be one of the better decisions I've made recently." 

"Yeah? That's good. You seemed to be doing well for a while there, until, you know... you died." Tony raised his eyebrows bemusedly, and Steve coughed on a laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, too soon?" Tony bit down on his lip, but let himself laugh as well.  It was easy to joke about, Steve found. When only a few days ago he was feeling empty with the actual loss, and just last night he had felt angry and betrayed. 

All that was gone now, replaced by an easiness, a comfortable climate as the two talked that made Steve wonder how often he and Tony had actually spent time together outside of work.

He made a mental note that it should have been more often before grabbing his jacket behind him and motioning to Tony that he was ready to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Tony basically dick around for two weeks. 
> 
> Warning: there's a panic attack at the beginning. If it's triggering, you can just skip "day four" and start at "day 7," it's not mentioned after that.

Steve and Tony slipped comfortably into a routine with and around each other over the next few days, the two waking up at a reasonable time and falling asleep at a reasonable time. And all the time in between, they somehow managed to keep themselves preoccupied, working out, sparring with each other when they had the gym to themselves, usually in the early mornings. Even watching movies, which mostly Tony did on his own when Steve was out and he'd exhausted himself in his own work and was too tired to do anything else but stare at a tv screen.

  
**Day Four**

Steve woke up at three a.m to the sound of ruffling sheets and muffled, panicked mumbling. He got up without a thought, rushing through the hall and sliding into the living room in his socks and boxers to see Tony, who was curled up in a ball, fingers clutching the blankets so tight his knuckles were white. Steve didn't so much as brush his hand over his shoulder and he woke up with a gasp. Two gasps. Three. Waking up hadn't banished the nightmare, because Tony was hunched over, grasping at his arc reactor, breathing like he'd forgotten to breathe. 

Steve was fully aware that he should know how to handle situations like these, as he'd done countless times before. But seeing  _Tony_  in such a state threw him so off guard that his first reaction was to shout the man's name and reach out to him. Tony's eyes widened in shock and he kicked Steve away, who backed off immediately, horrified with himself. 

A minute passed and Tony's breathing had softened, but now his hands were shaking, his whole body actually, trembling violently. Steve dropped to the floor a few feet from him.

"Tony," He said, voice soft. "Tony, it's Steve. You okay? You're okay. Can you breathe? Breathe through your nose. Tony, its okay. You're with me, Steve. Just breathe."

Tony tensed and then relaxed at the sound of Steve's name. He turned to look at him, teeth gritted, and nodded ever so slightly. Steve sighed a breath of relief. He all but stumbled over towards Tony, resting a hand on his upper back if only to feel his breath steadying. Tony curled up, placed his head between his knees, and the faint sound of him counting to himself and a final deep, shuttering breath put Steve's mind at ease. 

"Let's get you some water." 

-

"They're gone for the most part, I swear. But I still get them from time to time." Steve was listening to Tony from a distance to refrain from smothering him to make sure he was alright. He knew that'd only make things worse, and he knew that Tony could handle himself, but he had this sudden need to take care of him. Because he'd never seen Tony so panicked, so lost. So out of his own control. Steve knew the man was broken... Tony just never let it show.

And finally seeing it scared the hell out Steve. 

"Should I call Pepper?" Not that he didn't want to help Tony out himself, but he wanted to do what was best for him. Tony shook his head. 

"She never really handled these things very well."

"Rhodey? I know he'd know how to help." 

"Steve, please. It's fine, I've dealt before, I'll deal now. It was probably a one time thing." 

Steve's brows furrowed, bottom lip pulling out in a pout. 

"I'm just worried-"

"Don't be! I'm  _fine_." Tony snapped, and just like that, his guard was up again. Back straightened, shoulders stiffened, eyes blank. Steve stared at him in challenge, but he didn't budge and eventually Steve gave up. He didn't want to push it. 

Not that he ever wanted to see Tony in such a panicked, helpless situation again. He just wondered if he'd ever see Tony in such an honest, vulnerable position again. 

 

  
**Day 7**  

"Steve..." The exasperated groan came from Tony, who was sprawled out on the couch, leaning his head back over the armrest at the sound of Steve opening the front door. Steve paused.

"Hmm?" 

"I haven't seen another human's face in the past four days." It came out as a whine, which made Steve smile, almost sympathetically. 

"Yeah?" He said, shrugging in sarcastic clueless-ness. Tony rolled his eyes, mouth tight as if it pained him to say it out loud. 

"So, just... stay, please? Just for today, so I'm not stuck staring at these painfully boring white walls." 

Steve closed the door quietly, leaned against it and crossed his arms with a smirk. 

"I'm better than white walls?" He pressed. Of course, they were way past this now. But when they'd first met each other, Tony had been under the impression that Steve was boring. He was shortly proven wrong. In fact, they'd spent the first few months of knowing each other proving each other wrong.

Tony was sitting up now, and he bowed his head in defeat. 

"... _So_  much better than white walls." 

Steve grinned, satisfied with the response, tossed his keys to the side and went to join Tony on the couch. 

"Movie?" 

-

One movie turned into six until the sun was down, the menu screen for Fast and Furious was stuck on repeat, and Steve was passed out on the couch with half a bag of chips on his chest. Tony didn't want to wake him, didn't even try, but instead adjusted himself so that Steve's foot wasn't jabbing his leg and fell asleep sitting up.

Somehow having Steve so close was more of a comfort than an annoyance. 

 

**Day 11**

"Whatcha working on?" Steve mumbled, putting his arms on the back of the chair Tony was sitting in and resting his chin on his hands, leaning over to see the notebook he had in front of him. 

"It's a diagram for a new model of an iron man suit. Why are you standing so close?" Tony mimicked his mumbling. Steve, who was practically burying his chin into Tony's shoulder, just shrugged.

"Better view."

"Of my work?"

There was a pause Steve didn't mean to make. 

"Yeah." He said finally, furrowing his brows at his own hesitance. Tony just rolled his eyes and started to turn back to his work, until he noticed that Steve wasn't going anywhere.

"Hey cap."

"Hm?" 

"The sun is shining. Don't you have better things to do?" 

"Probably." 

"So... why aren't you doing them?" 

And well, Steve was stubborn as ever. And he had guts like no one else had guts, but he didn't have any to tell Tony that he'd grown  _afraid_  of leaving his sight. Yes, over the past couple weeks, Tony had become a surprisingly enjoyable presence in his life. But he had  _always_  been important to Steve. A string of heated arguments were nothing to the fact that they were  _teammates_. But the last time Steve watched Tony storm out of a room, he didn't see him again for three years. So yes, he was scared, and he was scared of admitting he was scared. So instead, he said

"I'm just fond of you, is all." Which wasn't a lie either, and shut Tony up pretty quickly, who's neck reddened slightly, and he turned his face away from Steve's view. 

And although Tony preferred to work on his own, he never made another complaint about it. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Steve and Tony fuck up, and then fuck up some more. Also, there's bed breaking.

Steve had nightmares of his past on the 16th night. Fears and guilt he'd learned to control and rid himself of years ago came spiraling back to the surface.

The mood was different the morning of the 17th. It could be felt, the sullenness, the anger... it hung heavily in the air as Tony stepped out of the shower that morning. It wasn't much different than that first night, when Steve had arrived at his apartment. 

He was sitting on the edge of the couch when Tony walked in in sweatpants that hung just below his hips and a towel in hand, still drying his hair. Steve's leg was shaking, his body hunched over as he watched the tv, remote clenched in his hand.

"Did you see this?" He asked through gritted teeth, turning around momentarily to see if Tony was paying attention. He was.

"See what? What is it, Steve?" Tony's voice was gentle, cautious, in hopes to not anger Steve any more than he already was. But Steve stood up, turning to Tony furiously, pointing at the TV. 

"The news!" He yelled, showing Tony what he'd been watching all morning.

Two trains had been locked from the outside and rigged to be blown up. Each train had been given the trigger to the other train, being told that if they blew the other train up, they got to live. But if both trains failed to pull the trigger on the other before times up, they both get blown up.

Both trains got blown up. 2500 people killed. And what symbol had been neatly carved into the outside of the trains before even leaving the station? The exact same one Tony had drawn for Steve a few weeks ago. The symbol of their current enemy. 

Steve felt sick to his stomach, couldn't help but bite his words, and Tony winced at every single one of them.

"You said he didn't attack without notice! You said we had time, you said _we needed to wait_!" Steve couldn't keep his words from tumbling out in an angry, babbling mess.

"He doesn't, and we _did_." Tony protested desperately, struggling to keep his own cool. 

"Oh yeah, that's obvious. I can't believe you talked me into this fucking plan." 

" _Me_?" Tony yelped, bristling. 

"Yes,  _you_." Steve spat. "If we had done it my way, we'd be done by now, this wouldn't have happened." He was enraged, but Tony wasn't fighting back. Why wasn't he fighting back? He simply looked confused. 

"Look, Steve, I know we lost people, and that's bad. I  _know_. And I'm so sorry. But... why are you so angry?" Tony immediately looked like he regretted his word choice.

Steve could feel his stomach erupt into flames of fury, couldn't even consciously realize what was happening to him. All he knew was that any other argument he'd ever had with Tony was nothing compared to what this felt like, and it was all one sided. 

"Because I could have saved them!" His shout echoed through the room, and Tony shut his mouth, eyes widening. Steve scrubbed a hand down his face, breath picking up fast. "Do you not care?! I could have saved them, I could've..." he swallows, trying to catch his breath, "I could have saved him." Oh.

_Oh._

He closed his eyes slowly, understanding now. The nightmares making sense then. 

He was afraid of repeating his past.

He was afraid of losing Tony. 

 

"Steve..."

"Don't." Steve said. He was still mad, but managed to say it calmly. He took a moment to let oxygen back into his brain, and by then he could feel Tony closer to him. Steve couldn't do anything more but look at Tony, his shaggy, damp hair, eyes daring to meet his, and the dull, blue flicker of his arc reactor. Steve reached out gently, pressing his fingertips to the cool metal. Tony didn't move away, but watched as Steve traced the outline of it. This "piece of junk," as Tony called it, a burden and a gift, was somehow the only thing currently reassuring to Steve as he fought to calm down.

"Can I...?" Tony started, but didn't wait for an answer. Steve stiffened when Tony reached out and touched his wrist, softened when he rested a hand on Steve's hip, fingers trailed up beneath the soft white cotton of his t-shirt,

he melted when Tony leaned up and kissed him. 

And in one swift motion, Tony had calmed the raging fire he had lit in Steve, containing it so that it was only a warmth that carried through his chest. The only burning sensation, the only uncontrolled heat left, was that of sudden desire, the need to be closer Tony, for the feel of his muscles moving beneath the palms of Steve's hands.

It was dizzying, the effect a simple kiss had on him, from a combination of not being thiscloseto someone in so long and the fact that it was Tony.

Steve couldn't keep up with the sudden emotions he was overwhelmed with, a series of realizations had hit him, and all he knew, all he could think about in that moment was that  _this was what they needed, this is all they needed_.  

All these years...

God, they'd been such idiots.

He was kissing Tony back hard, only stopping to catch his breath or adjust his hands. He let the other man push him against the armrest of the couch and knock him back into the cushions. 

He let Tony slide over him, let him rest his legs on either side of his hips. He let his hands slide down his chest, down his stomach, but stopped him when his fingers fixed onto his belt. Steve touched his hand gently, and was rewarded with a sudden spark of memory of the night Tony had a panic attack.

 He remembered how desperate it had made him, how he knew he would do anything,  _everything_ , if it would just make the short, horrified breaths pace themselves and make Tony feel better. 

And then he remembered something else. Something long ago, something years before the history between he and Tony rested like a burden on his chest. 

It was a small moment of realized misjudgment and absolute respect kept locked away between the two men all these years, but it wasn't until now that he realized just how intimate it had been.

They'd  been crouched low in a wasteland of debris next to a raging green monster and a mighty god. Steve had no reason to understand what that moment had actually meant at the time. 

But now the sun was rising, the sound of the tv droned on in the background, and the man that once had the potential to become his enemy now had him in the most vulnerable position he could be in, and the only advantage he took of that was with the gentlest touches and softest kisses. He was one of the only men Steve had left.

He tried to clear his mind, tried to be very aware of who he was with. _He had to be here for this._  


"Tony..." Steve wrapped his hands around his waist, locked behind at the small of his back. Tony had never looked at him so seriously in all the years they'd known each other. He leaned over slightly, reached down to run a hand through Steve's hair.

"I'm all in, Steve." he mumbled, and pressed his hips into Steve's. Steve leaned into the pressure, closing his eyes.

"God.." He breathed.

"No, but close." Steve's eyes shot open in surprise, and Tony just grinned at him, winking. It was light, playful, and eased Steve of the intensity of sudden emotions between them. He ran his hands down Tony's thighs, back up, thinking about how much he wanted this, how much he felt he needed this. It couldn't wait, he couldn't wait to think about it or talk about it.

"Okay." He said finally.

"Okay?" Tony echoed. 

"Bedroom," was the only other word he could manage to say before he grasped Tony's hips and rolled them both off the bed and swiftly to their feet. Tony gave Steve a look that made him wonder briefly if they were even going to be able to make it that far.

\--

Everything with Tony was a new experience for Steve, all warm and wonderful and dizzying. 

But no moment before had prepared him for the initial shock and then immediate pleasure pooling in his stomach when Tony finally situated himself between Steve's legs and first rocked up into him, one hand on his hip, the other tangled through his hair.

Steve wasn't sure what to do with his own hands. They started out on Tony's hips, encouraging every thrust, but as the pleasure got to be too much he could feel himself bruising Tony, so eventually he placed them back against the bedpost, nails digging into the wood. 

Steve bit his lip to keep down his unintelligible moans, but Tony seemed to encourage him, moving harder, faster, rocking Steve into an oblivion of pleasure, and the world around him had long disappeared. 

When Steve came, the wooden post in his hands cracked and crumbled. Tony caught up to him just a few beats after him with a low moan that broke off into a sudden laugh he tried to hide in the crook of Steve's neck. 

 

Steve wrapped an arm Tony when he pulled out, but stayed sprawled across Steve's chest. They laid there for a while, breathing rugged and offbeat. After a moment, Tony sat up on his elbow, looking at Steve curiously.

"You broke the bed." he stated in wonderment, and Steve's cheeks reddened ever so slightly, but didn't respond.

"That's kinda hot, Steve." Tony continued after a moment, and Steve grinned.

 

But suddenly Tony's face fell as if he'd just remembered something.

"Should we-"

"No." Steve interrupted before he could finish, tugging Tony closer and closing his eyes. He didn't want to think about the trains. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to make up for all the years he and Tony had been fighting rather than... well, this. 

He wanted to talk about what _this_ was, and what it meant. 

"But-" Tony objected.

"Tomorrow." Steve said. 

 

Captain America was not selfish. _Steve Rogers_ was not selfish. But there were two things he was pretty certain of. One: Tony was now guilt-ridden and felt responsible for all the lives on those two trains because of Steve. Two: nothing was going to happen if they just waited a day. 

So Steve put away Captain America for a day, because Tony needed a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no problems reading smut, but a lot of problems writing it, so please forgive me for tiptoeing around and skipping over important details


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wOW I feel like I should really apologize for how long this took, and the quality of this chapter. This was suppose to be the last one, but it would have taken me a life time to finish so I'm splitting it up into two or three more. This was so hard to write, so I'm sorry.

Waking up was not something Steve was happy about crossing off his to-do list, and interestingly enough it was Tony who was nudging him awake, slumped against the bedpost with Steve's cheek resting on his chest, running a hand through his morning bed-head. But the sheets were warm with the combined heat of their bodies, and Steve was perfectly content to sleep for the rest of the day.

He'd never felt that before. Saving the world had always been easy because he had nothing holding him back, and there was nothing to come home to. He had Bucky once, but that was before super villains and monsters. This, he realized, next to a man he could either create worlds or start wars with, was his happy place. A place he didn't want to give up.  


"We don't exactly have all day" Tony said softly into the top of his head, and when Steve opened his eyes, he must look panic stricken, because Tony frowned, his hands stopping their comforting touches. "Are you about to tell me last night was a mistake and it's best we never talk about it?" 

Steve pouted until he noticed Tony's smirk, and then retorted "Are you about to leave and never call me back?" 

There was a low chuckle that sent warming vibrations through Steve's body. 

"No, not this time."

\---

Getting up was a pain, but the rest of the morning was a hassle of pulling on yesterdays wrinkled clothes(Steve wanted to wear the suit, but Tony said this wasn't an Avengers mission, or a Shield mission. This was a Tony mission, and a red white and blue wasn't exactly laying low. Steve didn't really see the point if he was bringing his shield anyway. That was non-negotiable). Finding food was arguably a mess of grabbing whatever was edible from the fridge for breakfast. Figuring out who was going to drive was just an annoyance.

"Oh no," Steve started when Tony didn't toss him the keys, but instead heads towards the driver side of the car. "No, I've ridden with you on missions before. We're not doing that again." But Tony ignored him, pulling the door open and sitting himself inside.

"You drive a motorcycle. My driving can't possibly be that bad to you. Just get in." Steve rolled his eyes, but obeyed, making his way across the parking lot and bitterly sitting in the passenger side. Tony pulled out swiftly, and took off out of the lot at an ungodly speed. Steve sat back in his seat and let them drive in silence for a while, watching the blur of trees and the eventual lights of other cars as they pulled onto the highway before he decided to speak again.

"So are we gonna talk about this?" 

"Christ Steve, if you really want to drive that badly, just give me a sec and I'll pull over.." Steve made a face.

"No, i mean this," He said, gesturing between the two of them. Tony's brows furrowed as if he was trying to think of something to say while still keeping his eyes on the road.

"We have to talk about it?"

"Yes."

"You're going to make me talk about it?"

"Yes." 

"I do have one formal complaint." He paused, off the highway now, to turn his blinker on and take a left. "We should have done it years ago." 

"Tony..."

"Well! You said you wanted to talk about it. This is me talking about it." Steve sighed loudly. 

"Well jesus Tony, how was I suppose to know? It was hard enough being your team mate." He said. 

"But was it that hard being my friend?" 

Steve thought that over, and it was strange to him that he found the answer was no. No, when he put work aside, when he put the hard decisions behind, being Tony's friend was as easy as breathing, he realized. It was just so strange; it really shouldn't have taken a genius to figure it out. But would you look at that, it actually did. 

"Did  _you_  know?" Steve was staring down at his hands when he felt them come to a stop and looked up to see Tony looking back at him with an expression Steve couldn't describe with any other word but heartbroken. 

"Why do you think I left, Steve?" It was quiet, unaccusing, but chill inducing all the same.

And then Tony was gone, making his way toward a worn down building, large and surrounded bye an at least 20 foot high fence. Groaning, Steve grabbed his shield and stumbled out the car, catching up with the man in seconds.

"I see lazing around for two weeks didn't do anything to your physical ability." Tony noted, now stopped in front of the gates and looking over the building. Steve looked, too.

"This isn't the layout you showed me." It was similar, but wrong. Steve couldn't even tell where his first position was suppose to be. It was backwards, almost.

"I came around back. The front was too heavily guarded, a mild inconvenience." Tony didn't sound concerned, but Steve felt himself twitch in irritation.

"What about the plan?"

Tony tilted his head to the side and shrugged casually.

"We wing it." And then he leaped up and grabbed onto the metal wiring, using the gaps as foot holders, and started climbing. Steve took a moment to watch him, angry and astonished, before following after him, passing him, and landing perfectly silent on the other side. It took Tony an extra minute to climb, but once he reached the top, he took a look down below him, face scrunched up like he hadn't thought this through.  

Steve reached out his hands in an offer to catch him, which Tony whined about, but didn't refuse. He dropped down, catching Steve on the shoulders and Steve catching Tony by his waist, setting him down carefully.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He made a move as if to brush dirt off his shoulder and pushed past Steve, studying the building and the maze of walls seeming to surround it. Steve didn't bother, now that he knew what he was looking at, and headed over. Tony trailed behind, a step behind since the only real defense he had with him was the rough draft iron man hand he made out of scraps last minute. 

 

Back pressed against the wall of the building, adjusting his grip on his shield, Steve turned the corner so fast his head started to spin, ready to take down any man that was standing guard. Instead, he was met with an arrow two inches from his face, which was quickly lowered by the man in front of him, dark shades hardly masking the shock on his face.

"Rogers?"

\--

Tony was still on the other side of the wall where Steve hoped he would stay, while Clint Barton eyed Steve wearily, hands lowered but not leaving his bow.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. Steve felt himself square his shoulders on instinct.

"Hopefully the same thing you're doing here, or we're going to have a problem." He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm here on shield's orders." He said, and Steve felt himself relax a little.

"Okay Tony," He called over his shoulder.

"Took you long eno- oh." Tony froze when he saw Clint, eyes widening momentarily as he re-evaluated the situation, but otherwise remained unperturbed.

"Shield." Steve noted, and Tony nodded. Clint, however couldn't hide his shock.

"What-"

"Long story," Tony interrupted, holding up a hand. "Spoiler alert! I'm not actually dead."

 "I see that." Clint said. He didn't wait for the awkward silence, the sudden moment of 'what now.' He pressed a finger to his ear and turned his head to the side.

"Tasha," He mumbled into the ear-piece. There was a pause for some unheard response, and then, "You're gonna want to see this when your done." 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha could have handled the whole situation on her own, and probably should have. 
> 
> This is probably totally inaccurate, but I just did not plan this story out very well.

Natasha leaned against the back doorway of the building, hip cocked to the side and arms crossed. She made no move of surprise when her eyes landed on Tony, however her lips quirked up ever so slightly, and she nodded in his direction.  
“You here to compromise our mission?” she asked.

"Oh we would have been here a lot sooner had this asshole's usual threat signal gone off." Tony retorted.

"Who do you think prevented that?"

Steve stepped in, mouth parted in confusion.

"Wait. Shield?" He inquired. Natasha turned her attention to him.

"Can we walk and talk? I've cleared the building, save the men in the main room." She turned on her heels and headed off. Steve followed, fast walking to stay next to her. Tony followed shortly after, and then Clint, after locking his bow back in place.

The inside of the building was narrow, winding, and dark. Steve blinked, adjusting to dimness of the hallway, nose wrinkling at the smell of something foul that no one else seemed to be bothered by. He looked back every now and then to make sure Tony was still there.

"We had to keep it under wraps. Couldn't have the government getting involved, so we blocked his threat, kept it from airing," Natasha started as she reached the end of the hallway and peered down the left corridor before taking a right.

"Well I'll have you know you got a bunch of people killed." Tony called out behind them. Steve shot him a look, but Natasha ignored him, continuing her maneuvers through the building, making turn after turn, never questioning herself or backtracking, like she'd been here a dozen times before. Even Steve had a hard time keeping up.

"Not us," Clint grunted.

"The two dim-witted agents Shield sent on this mission before us." Nat finished. Steve didn't want to ask what ended up happening to those agents, and from the silence that followed, neither did Tony. Suddenly Natasha stopped by a door, rattled the knob to no use, sighed, and kicked it open, revealing an open room with even more doors. Two bodies lay sprawled out, either unconscious or dead (courtesy of the Natasha, Steve is sure), and distantly, Steve could hear the sound of music. They made their way in, but once inside, Natasha didn't make any sort of move in any direction, so they hovered around anxiously.

"Who is this guy to Shield, anyway? He seems like a potential threat to the area, but the State police looked like they could have handled it if you didn't interfere." Steve said. For Tony, it had been a different story. He was one man with a large company filled with very few people he could trust, and he'd made the mistake of threatening this half-assed villain probably in hopes to feel like a hero once again, which didn't go over too well. But why Shield? It had bigger and better things to deal with.

"Oh yeah, this guy's child's play once you're able to find him." Natasha smirked. "But he has information on someone else we're keeping an eye on." And okay, that made more sense. 

"Who?" Tony asked, and Natasha smiled at him.

"I'm sorry, that's classified information."

"Oh come on, Steve's part of Shield." Tony protested.

"Even so, I don't get the whole truth." Steve commented dryly. Natasha's face fell, no longer amused and teasing.

"I'm sorry, Steve, what are you doing here again? I get that Stark here threatened and got threatened and then faked his own death, but what part do you play in all of this?" She cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrows at him questioningly. 

"He showed up at my apartment when I moved in a few weeks ago." Steve said. Next to him, Clint's arms uncrossed and fell to his sides.

"So he's been crashing with you ever since?" He asked. Steve nodded, and Clint and Natasha shared a glace he couldn't determine the meaning of. The conversation had died into silence then, so Natasha turned away from them, studying the walls.

"Clint, which door?" She asked. Clint clasped his hands together, warming them up before stretching out his hand and pointing at the doors.

"Eenie, meenie, miney... you." He said, picking out a door. Nat gestured for them to be silent, heading over to the door, using a thin, tiny tool to pick the lock. 

When the door opened, the distant music got louder, pouring into their room and through Steve's ears, loud and unrecognizable. The one and only man in the room was sitting in a chair with it's back to them, surprisingly not the first mistake Steve had noticed since they arrived here. He was starting to think Tony would have been fine on his own. However, he took an instinctive, protective stance in front of him all the same. In front of them, Natasha pulled out her gun and pointed it at the back of the man's head, making sure even through the music that the 'click' was heard.

"Don't move." She ordered. The man stiffened, his hands raising above his head immediately at the sound of Natasha's cold, unwavering tone. 

"Oh dear," His own voice was thick. grossly accented with something nearly un-human, and sent chills down Steve's spine. He may have not have been the most thorough, calculating villain, but he certainly seemed creepy enough. 

The man was laughing, suddenly, a dark, throaty laugh that erupted into a loud, eerie cackle out of nowhere. Steve frowned, concern pooling in the pit of his stomach. He turned to Clint, who just shrugged.

"I know you can't kill me" He said. It was the last thing Steve had been expecting, for him to spin around in his seat faster than even he could take in with a gun drawn and shot randomly into the air, unaimed. But it was enough of a shock for Nat to falter and him to make a run for it.

"Clint!" She called.

"Got him," In one swift motion, Clint pulled an arrow from his pack, aimed, and shot. The arrow landed between the man's shoulder blade and spine and he fell to his knees before collapsing to the floor. It wasn't a deadly shot, Steve could see. It was an tranquilizer arrow, putting the man to sleep. Steve stared, trying to register what had just happened. 

But he only had a few minutes to relax before a low, agonized groaning reached his ears whereas before he was too distracted to hear.

It happened in seconds, but felt like hours. Steve whipped his head to the side to see that at some point, Tony had moved out from behind his stance and was now a couple feet away from him, doubled over, a bloodied hand clutching at his stomach. The villain's gun hadn't actually been shot randomly, and had, in fact, been aimed. 

Right at Tony. 

Tony, who was down and hurt and bleeding, who was then pushing Steve away, insisting he was fine, as Steve pressed shaking, panicking fingers against Tony's skin, prying Tony's hand from his stomach to look at the wound and not even seeing it in the blur of disbelief and shock that was his vision. Tony, who was now swaying on his knees, half in Steve's arms, looking at Steve while Steve looked anywhere but at Tony, denying denying denying as his mind buzzed in confusion. 

"I'll fucking kill him," he heard his voice saying. Natasha was by their side now, inspecting the wound.

"You can't kill him, Steve. We need him." She reached out and touched him, snapping him out of his daze. He felt himself lean into the touch, it's intent to comfort, and it did, coming from one of the few people he knew he could trust.

"I know, okay? I know," She said gently. "Just get him to the hospital, alright? He'll be fine. Clint and I got this," She added, pointing to the heap on the floor with her head. 

\--

Tony's weight in his arms hardly slowed him down, however the twists and turns of the corridors did. He allowed himself a few seconds to clear his mind enough to remember where he was going, only because he knew if he didn't it would take even longer, and managed to get out of the building and to the car in one try. 

He was winding between cars when he felt a hand on his knee and looked over to see Tony slumped over, but surprisingly still conscious. 

"Steve.." He mumbled, not deliriously, but slow and slurred. "Steve."

"What? What is it, Tony?" The panic he'd managed to get rid of was now rising in his throat. They were five minutes from the nearest hospital, surely Tony could hold on that much longer.

"Steve, I can't believe you complained about  _my_  driving." Tony said, and Steve wasn't sure whether it was laughter or tears that he was about to burst into.

It ended up being both. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which tony talks a lot and there's /feelings/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Except for probably an epilogue, but jeeze, took me long enough, yeah? I'm just proud that I didn't give up on it. Thanks so much for all the lovely comments and support, it was a huge help <3333

Ironically, it was when Steve finally allowed himself to rest that Tony woke up. He started to stir when he felt a thumb rubbing circles into his palm and opened his eyes to see the man no longer unconscious in his hospital bed, but sitting up, pillows bunched up behind his back. The hand Steve had been holding for the past few hours was now tightening around his own, and Tony was looking at him with eyes half lidded.

"Morning, sunshine." He croaked, and Steve broke into a smile. 

"Tony." He said, somewhat breathlessly, sitting up and clasping his free hand around the hand he was already holding.

Steve had arrived at the hospital that afternoon, an arm wrapped around Tony's waist for support and pulling him through the front doors, where Tony was quickly taken from Steve's arms and herded into an emergency room. Whether the way their faces fell in awe and recognition when their eyes landed on Tony was anything but coincidence, Steve didn't think about; if it got him help faster, who cared? Steve had better things to worry about than how to gently shed the light of Tony Stark's survival to the rest of the world. Tony Stark's survival itself, for example. 

Maybe it was the sharp, unwavering glare that was met with any question regarding Tony's gunshot wound. It could just as easily been the way his shoulders slumped forward and Steve hovered over the hospital bed, looking absolutely defeated. Whatever the reasoning was, he was never asked about Tony's past whereabouts and sudden re-emergence. And if nothing else, Steve was grateful. 

"Stitches, I assume?" Tony asked, pulling Steve out of his daze. He yawned, nodding. "S'pose I could use a new scar." Tony said, offering him a hint of a smile. Steve returned it.

"How did the rest of the mission pan out, did I fuck it up?"

"Nat checked in about an hour ago, and Shield has the guy in custody. His name's Randall Wilson."

" _Randall_?" Tony blurted out, face scrunching up. "His name is  _Randall_? Jeeze, no wonder he wants to take over the world." Steve huffed out a laugh.

"Turns out he was just meant to be a distraction for us, for the world, from something much bigger than us." He watched Tony carefully, but he didn't seem all that concerned.

"Figures. Dude was too stupid to be able to pull off half the stunts he did." Steve wondered if maybe Tony felt it wasn't his problem anymore, but he didn't ask.

"So, I uh... called Pepper." He told him when the silence started to get uncomfortable. Tony exhaled loudly, not surprised.

"How long do I have?" He asked, and Steve checked his watch.

"Maybe ten minutes?" But as it left his mouth, he could already hear the loud clack of heels echoing down the halls outside, and Tony gave him one last, hopeful glance before a flustered, sleep deprived Pepper Potts was bursting through the door. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, her bottom lip chewed raw, but from her shoulders down was composed, professional.

"I swear to god, Tony, you keep doing this bullshit to me..." She looked infuriated as she stormed into the room, but headed straight into Tony's suddenly outstretched arms, leaning uncomfortably over the bed, hiding her face in Tony's neck. Steve looked away, feeling intrusive. 

"I'm sorry," Tony said, voice strangled. "I am  _so_ sorry." 

Pepper pulled away just in time for the door to swing open  _again_ , revealing a very wary, but relieved looking Rhodey stepped into the room, and Tony's face dropped into something very close to horror.

"By the time you actually die, people are going to be tired of going to your funeral." He said, tone flat. 

"Please don't yell at me."

"No," Rhodey let out, along with a breath of air. He made his way over to Tony and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "No, that can wait until we get home." 

Tony beamed, and Rhodey ruffled his hair fondly. "It's good to see you again, Tony." 

 

Steve stood after a few minutes of them visiting, offering the three some privacy (he'd spent two weeks practically attached to Tony's hip,and knowing he was alive), but Pepper looked at him, stunned.

"Don't  _you two_  need privacy? Besides, I have a meeting in an hour and Rhodey is my ride." She shrugged.

"I need to ask a favor before you go, it's important." said Tony, and the sincerity in his voice kept Pepper from rolling her eyes as well as perking Steve's attention. He tilted his head the side, listening. Tony sat up straighter so he could make himself clearer. Pepper listened intently.

"When you get home, I need you to reach JARVIS. He has a file called 'Avengers reassembled'. It's locked, but you know my password. Open the file, find the contacts I have listed in there, and schedule a meeting with them, please."

"Tony-" Steve started, knowing where this was going, but Tony hushed him. There was a glint of something in Pepper's eyes, but her face remained blank, neutral, and she nodded. 

"I'll do that," She agreed, reaching over and grasping Tony's hand one last time before heading toward the door, lingering.

"Please come home soon." And then she disappeared behind the door, Rhodey following behind. 

 

"Tony, I think-" Steve began again when he heard the door click, but Tony held up a hand. 

 "Steve, I need talk to you." he said, in a way that made Steve's gut churn. "I need to talk, but you need to listen. It's a lot of words and I need you to hear all of them. Okay?" He looked at Steve sternly, making sure he had his attention. Steve swallowed his questions and nodded.

"Okay." He echoed. Tony reached out, asking for Steve's hand, and Steve gladly gave it too him. 

"I'm a mess. Maybe I've denied that in the past, but I know that I am. I've been told that I'm going to destroy myself one day, and I've been abandoned by the people who didn't want to watch it happen. It's funny, you know. To have the whole world watching you, but nobody willing to help. 

"The last thing I wanted from our relationship was for me to get in the way of it being a friendship, but it happened. I was too bitter, too unwilling to be put in my place, but... You make a better person, Steve. You have to know that. I can't imagine where'd I'd be today if you weren't in some way a part of my life, but it wouldn't be anywhere good. You acknowledge my good intentions, but also my flaws, and I needed someone like that my entire life. 

"I've loved you for years. _Years_. I let it fester, I let it eat me from the inside out because I couldn't risk it blowing up in my face, or ruining our team, but not being able to communicate my feelings with you somehow translated to me not being able to communicate with you at all, and it made everything worse. So I left, hoping that The Avengers could survive and that maybe, with just the knowledge of your existence, the past influences you've had on me, I could survive too. 

"But it doesn't work that way. I need you here if you want me at my best. I know I'm no good for you, but we create this balance and I think that I can do this right this time. With you, and with the Avengers." 

Silence fell over the two men as Tony's words settled into Steve's gut, something warm and whole spreading through his veins. He wasn't sure what to say, or where to start, but he was sure of his feelings. 

"Tony, I... don't want to be misunderstood. You should know better than anyone that I am not perfect, and you  _are_ good enough for me. But I don't want this to be about worth, and comparing and... You don't have to be good enough, Tony. My god, you are, you are good enough in so many ways and on so many levels. But you're good enough for me because I love you, and that's all that should matter." That didn't come out right, that sounded all wrong. He could talk Hydra out of it's hiding place in Shield, but he couldn't even tell Tony how felt. So to clarify, he added "You make me better, too. And I can't lose that. You." And if the amount of love he could physically feel for Tony in that moment had started welling in his eyes, he would deny it. 

Tony smiled weakly, tried to lean over, but he's wound kept him back, so Steve got up, closing the distance between them, kissing him softly. Tony pulled back, but kept their faces close.

"You know, it  _would_  take a shot to the gut and a hospital to get us together." He joked. 

"I can't believe it took five years," Steve said, because the longer he looked at Tony, the harder it was getting to not kiss him every chance he got.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short, sweet, and hopefully a satisfying ending.

"I'm afraid I do not understand." Thor sat at the end of a long table, fists clenched casually on the surface, brows furrowed at he tried to think. Other various members (or ex members) of the Avengers scattered around as well, with either bored or semi-amused expressions planted on their faces. Steve and Tony stood at the other end of the table, close but not too close to each other.

"Oh, do they have to spell it out for you? They fucked, and now they want to get the Avengers back together," Clint called out, tilting his head back over the chair he'd rolled across the room to the large window of the building. Thor looked down, considering that.

"Am I the only one who wasn't even aware that we had even dissembled?" Sam looked around the room, looking bewildered.

"We were on an 'indefinite break.'" Natasha answered, not looking at him, but rather keeping her eyes on Steve and Tony, mouth pursed in a diverted smile. Sam threw his hands in the air in exasperation. 

Next to Steve, he could feel Tony beginning to tense up.

"This was a bad idea," he mumbled. Steve shot down the thought immediately, turning him to face him and resting his hands on his shoulders.

"No, this was a _good_ idea, Tony. " He said before turning back to the group of people in front of them. "Look, all we're saying is that we've found an efficient way to work through our differences-"

"Oh, I'm _sure_." 

Steve coughed uncomfortably, but otherwise ignored the comment. 

"The world has not rid itself of problems yet, and I have a feeling it's going to need more than a little help, and soon. I am just hoping that  _we_  can be that help." He felt a hand press into the small of his back in support. 

"Well, I'm in." The voice came from Bruce, who hadn't said a single word this entire time, just sitting quietly next to Natasha. Tony looked over at him, hopeful.

"Really?" 

"A change of pace sounds nice, actually. I've spent too much time in my lab." He answered. 

"Yeah, Shield's missions get a little boring when you've fought aliens and mythological gods." Clint said, spinning around in his chair to face the rest of them. Natasha nodded her agreement. 

There was a fleeting feeling of relief that Steve could see sweep over Tony when everyone had agreed, the meeting came to a close, and they'd shuffled out of the room.

 

"Well that was easy." He noted when the doors had shut, turning to Steve, who smiled encouragingly. 

"No one had wanted to see you leave the team." He said.

"Even you?"

"Especially me." He wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed him, feeling Tony smile against his lips. "So, what now?" He asked when Tony pulled away. He knew there was a lot to work out, a lot of decisions to make regarding The Avengers, including living arrangements and such. Steve wanted to part of these decisions. Tony, however, didn't seem interested in discussing such things yet. 

Instead, he sat on the edge of the conference table, spreading his legs wide, suggestively, encouraging Steve between them.

"Now... I want to celebrate." Tony grabbed Steve by his tie, leaning back and pulling him down, over him, into a kiss that had Steve moaning before he could even get his hands on Tony.

He couldn't imagine their arguments ever becoming a problem again when this was always an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the patience and support. This was fun!


End file.
